Fool's Gold
by Rhianna-Aurora
Summary: Exceedingly exhausted and frustrated, Balthier and Ashe make a rather unorthodox arrangement, and it leads to something neither of them expected. There are SEVERAL sexual situations in this fic. You've been warned. BalthierxAshe
1. Arrangement

**A/N:**** I've been working on this fic for awhile, and I thought that I would go ahead and post it here. I'm really close to finishing it, so I hope you enjoy the first six chapters, and know that there are a few more to come in the near future!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Balthier, Ashe, or any of the FFXII characters. Nor do I own FFXII. It all belongs to Square and I'm not making annnnny money off of this silly little fic. :)**

_**  
Chapter One**  
**Arrangement**_

_Be my bad boy, be my man  
Be my weekend lover  
But don't be my friend  
-- Cascada, "Bad Boy"_

Something was bothering the Princess. A blind fool would have picked up on it. They were walking around the Salikawood, looking for some sodding lazy moogles, but Ashe didn't seem very interested in the task at hand. She kept stealing furtive glances in his direction, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.

The leading man in him wanted to say she was nervous about being alone with him. It was, after all, the first time that had ever happened. Basch normally didn't let the Princess out of his sight. But the moogles had given them little choice. Basch and Fran had stayed at the gate, to make sure the moogles _actually_ went back there. The overseer had been pretty clear that his employees weren't known for their strong work ethic, and the group had figured that Basch and Fran were the most intimidating.

That had left Vaan, Penelo, Ashe, and Balthier to round up the little bastards. All so they could get to the bleeding Phon Coast.

After several minutes, Ashe let out a long-suffering sigh. "They aren't here, obviously. Why are we still wandering around the _same area_?" she groused.

"Someone's a little cranky," Balthier said teasingly, earning a petulant glare from the Princess. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Ashe looked at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was teasing her again, or if his offer was genuine. Seeing no hint of amusement in his eyes, she exhaled, trying to stay the butterflies in her stomach.

Was she _really_ going to do this?

"You've been tense since Mt. Bur-Omisace, Princess," Balthier continued, leaning nearer than was necessary to her ear. "Well, before that, really, but it's more noticeable now. Even _Vaan_ has noticed." He quirked his eyebrow at her and she smiled faintly at his attempt to cheer her.

"And I suppose you _never _get tense, being the leading man, is that right?" Ashe said, rolling her eyes.

"We all get tense, Princess. Some of us just have … ah, different _outlets_ for the tension."

Ashe gaped at him, realization dawning. "Oh, so, you and Fran …" she muttered feebly, feeling a fool for even _thinking _this ridiculous scheme of hers would work.

Balthier's uproarious laughter caused her to jerk her head up sharply. "Not since we first met, Princess," he said, after he'd stopped laughing. "And I'd daresay it's been well over a month since I've relieved the tension _that_ particular way, since you asked." He winked at her and she took a step back, only to back herself up against a tree. He quickly closed the distance, leaned nonchalantly against the trunk, mere inches from Ashe, feeling quite proud of himself.

Ashe bit her lip to conceal her amusement. "That long, you don't say?" she said, feigning sympathy for the pirate. "How terrible for you." Rolling her eyes again, she tried to push him away, but he trapped her with his arms against the tree. "Balthier," she said warningly.

"How long has it been for you?" he asked her seriously, a strange light in his hazel eyes.

She met his gaze defiantly. "Two years. So forgive me if your paltry little month pales in comparison."

He whistled. "Two _years_?" he said. "Hell. I see now why you're tense." He cocked a grin, and started to back away from her, but she put her hand on his upper arm to stop him.

"What if …what if we came to some sort of arrangement?" she said, surprised at how strong her voice actually sounded. _This _was not something that Princesses were supposed to do. But desperate times and all that … the frustration of this journey was taking its toll, and while fighting monsters had its perks, it wasn't the kind of physical outlet she _needed_.

She'd been thinking a lot about it over the last week or so. Widow or no, vagrant princess or not, at the core of it all, she was a woman. A _young_ woman, a woman with needs.

She couldn't ask Basch … he'd be absolutely _horrified _at the notion, and besides, she worried she would become emotional about him, were they to get involved. They _did _have a history, and long ago, she had been quite infatuated with the knight.

And then, of course, there was Vaan … but Vaan was … well, _Vaan_. Too young, too inexperienced. Too loose-lipped. And he just did _nothing _for her, sweet as he was.

Balthier was perfect. He was handsome, he _obviously _knew what to do with a woman, and emotional attachments (save Fran) didn't seem to be his strong suit. Things wouldn't get messy with Balthier. It would be easy … and they would both benefit from it in the end.

Balthier froze, just looked at her. "Arrangement?" he said, trying to remain nonchalant.

"Nobody can work well when they're overwrought," Ashe began slowly. "And I obviously am, as you pointed out. I'm absolutely _mad_ for suggesting this, I know. But I'm … frustrated. There are certain things that no amount of hacking and slashing are going to take care of. Surely you understand?"

He could only nod. Surely she wasn't suggesting …

"So I think that you and I should …" she paused, searching for the best way to finish her thought. "We should feel free to use each other as a means of channeling any pent-up frustrations we might have in the future."

He still said nothing, just looked at her with an absolutely disbelieving expression.

"I've thought this through. It will only benefit us in the end. We will be more relaxed and refreshed," she went on. "There would be rules, of course. I don't want any emotional attachments involved."

She looked at him, wondering why he hadn't spoken yet. He still said nothing, so she continued. "First of all, there is no way the others can know. Not even Fran," she added pointedly. "And Basch would kill you if he knew, so … Also, no names used, it's far too personal. And in that same vein, no kissing on the lips."

Balthier finally found his voice. "You _have_ thought this through."

Ashe nodded. "Yes, I have. So what say you?"

He very nearly laughed, leave it to Her Royal Highness to make a proposition sound like a diplomatic agreement. He pushed back from the tree, turned away from her for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He ran his hands through his hair quickly and then turned back to her. She had an expectant look on her face, and he had to admit that using her as a … "means to channel his frustrations" … would be no hardship.

"I'd say it's a deal, then," he finally responded. "Do we shake on it?"

Ashe shook her head, smiling a little. "No, I don't believe that's necessary."

"All right," Balthier said. Suddenly he felt quite unsure of what to do now that this "agreement" was in place. "How am I to know when you'll be requiring my special talents, and vice-versa?" he finally asked.

Ashe sighed affectedly. Back to his old tricks, of course. "Please don't trivialize this," she said quietly. "I don't find it humorous."

"Nor do I," he answered. "But I cannot even begin to understand what is going on in your mind -- especially not _now_ -- and I can only assume you won't be wanting this to happen every day."

"That would be a correct assumption," Ashe said glibly, as they started walking again, and she peeked her head into one of the forest bungalows. No moogles to be found. "Perhaps a code or a signal of some sort?"

Balthier narrowed his eyes. "A code word? Truly?"

Ashe exhaled loudly. "Don't you and Fran use codes whilst you are plundering?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"That is quite different," Balthier retorted dryly.

"Not so. In both cases, the communication is needed to be kept between two people. If it doesn't work, we can find another way," Ashe said, unfazed by the pirate's sarcasm.

"How many phrases will I have to memorize then?" Balthier asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Oh, he was rather enjoying himself. "Will there be a phrase for when you wish to be ravished at daybreak, one when you wish to sneak away from the group?"

"Oh," Ashe grumbled irritably. "First of all, there will be no ravishing. We've no need for formalities. It will be a simple thing, very quick, so we aren't caught, do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Balthier responded.

Shaking her head, Ashe stopped in front of the last bungalow in their current section of the forest. "What about notes? Something that wouldn't make sense to anyone reading it. They might think it a mistake or a piece of trash … that would work, wouldn't it?"

"So if I receive a note reading 'There are no moogles in the forest today' … I could take that to mean …" he raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she tried not to laugh.

"You would be correct in that assumption." She nodded. Sighing in frustration at yet another empty bungalow, she threw up her hands. "There are no moogles here today!"

"You don't say?" Balthier said softly, coming closer to her.

"Perhaps … perhaps we should do this now?" she whispered, looking at the empty hut. "Get it over with."

"That was my plan," he said, pulling her over to the bench.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to be lain back on the rough-hewn bench, the wood digging into her back and the backs of her legs uncomfortably. She kept her eyes tightly shut, and prayed that Balthier wouldn't be a talker. She couldn't have handled his prattle right now. No, she just wanted this done. The first time is the worst, the hardest. After this, it would be all right, it would be better. With shaking hands, she reached down and removed her underwear and dropped them onto the floor.

He watched her, afraid to move or speak, afraid she'd take off running like an Ozmone Hare if he inadvertently frightened her. And truth be told, he didn't want her to run. It would be a lie if he said that he hadn't thought of doing _just this _with Her Royal Highness numerous times before. She wore that tiny little skirt, and he was a man, after all. He'd just never imagined _she'd _be the one to suggest it.

When he thought she seemed a bit calmer, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to do what he never thought he'd be allowed to do.

She felt his hands on her hips first, positioning her, lifting her skirt a little higher. Then she felt him slide his fingers over her gently. It was the first time a man had touched her like that in so long, and she gasped involuntarily at the sensation.

He used his fingers deftly, making sure she was ready for him, not wanting to cause any more pain than was necessary, before he unbuttoned his trousers and slid himself into her.

Her eyes flew open and she let out a hissing breath. She'd forgotten how much it would _hurt_. It was like the first time all over again, and unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. Embarrassed, she reached up and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

He held very still inside her until he was sure the worst part was over. He knew she wasn't a virgin, but chances were good that she felt like one right now. He felt her body relax a little, and knew he could go ahead.

He began to thrust slowly within her, picking up speed as her inner walls became more accommodating to him. She did grasp his shoulders with her hands as he thrust, but she barely made any noise after her initial gasp. He supposed that was to be expected … it probably didn't feel good for her right now. He made a mental note to himself to make it up to her the next time. He let himself finish, though it wasn't a very satisfying ending. He knew, though, that she would want it to be over as quickly as possible. This was just the "getting it over with" bit … next time, next time would be better.

Standing up, pulling on her underwear, and straightening her skirt, Ashe wouldn't meet his eyes. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, after all … she certainly didn't feel any better; in fact, she almost felt _worse_. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the dull ache between her legs.

Balthier re-buttoned his trousers and blew out a long breath. Not his finest work, that was for certain. "Ashe," he said after a long moment of silence. "First impressions are not all there is to go on. You'll forgive me, for hurting you, I hope. And I think we'll _both_ be needing some time to get used to this arrangement."

He smiled, just a little, but it was enough to put Ashe at ease, and she nodded. "Of course. The first time … is never good."

"We should get back to the group," he said abruptly, sensing her vulnerability and not wanting to take advantage of it. "Hopefully Vaan and Penelo found those blasted moogles."

Ashe nodded and led the way through the forest and back to the gate.

The moogles _were _all there, as was the rest of the party, with much concern over the long delay of Ashe and Balthier.

Ashe just waved her hand dismissively, saying, "We got lost because _someone _thought he knew a shortcut." The glaring look she shot Balthier was convincing enough for their comrades, and there were no more questions for the Princess and the pirate, which was lucky, because Ashe knew she couldn't have answered them.

Just as she knew she wouldn't put off the next encounter with Balthier, much as her mind was screaming at her to write the whole thing off. She wasn't ready to give up yet.

xXx

When they reached the Hunter's Camp at the Phon Coast, much later that evening, Vaan and Penelo immediately ran for the water, splashing and squealing like children. It warmed Ashe's heart to see them happy. They were working _so hard _to help her, it was nice that they could have some time to themselves as well.

Basch and Fran headed for the local merchant, leaving Ashe and Balthier alone yet again. She tripped slightly, and he caught her hand, effectively keeping her from falling on her face.

She quickly retracted her hand, and walked away from him, toward the water's edge. Balthier shook his head in frustration at the temperamental Princess and followed her. "Why the capital?" he asked her.

"The nethicite," Ashe said solemnly. "I must destroy it."

"You sure you don't want it for yourself? Use it's power to restore Dalmasca -- something like that? The best intentions invite the _worst_ kinds of trouble," he said in an almost accusing tone. He wondered why he was bringing this up now, but then he realized -- she was trusting him with something huge, and to repay that, he would be completely honest with her. He owed her that much.

"Lusting for ever greater power, blinded by the nethicite. Is that how you see me?" She didn't know where he was going with this, but it was good that he was telling her now, rather than later.

"That does sound like someone I know," he continued, staring out across the seemingly endless blue ocean. "He was obsessed with nethicite. It was all he cared about. He'd babble nonsense about some 'Eynah', or was it 'Venat'? Everything he did, he did to get closer to the nethicite. He made airships, weapons … he even made me a Judge."

Ashe gasped. "You … you were a Judge?"

Balthier sighed. "Part of a past I'd rather forget. It didn't last long. I ran. I left the Judges, and him. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa. Draklor Laboratory's own Dr. Cid. That's when he lost his heart to nethicite, lost himself. And I suppose that's when I lost my father."

Ashe sighed sadly, and he finally turned around to face her again. "Don't follow in his footsteps. I ran away. I couldn't stand seeing him like that … a slave to the stone. So I ran. Free at last. Funny I went for the Dusk Shard. How could I have known it was nethicite? And then of course, I met you." Ashe walked up to stand next to him at the water's edge. "All that running and I got nowhere. It's time to end this -- to cut my ties to the past."

Ashe smiled forlornly. "It's hard to leave the past behind, I know." She looked at her wedding band for a moment, and then back to the man beside her now.

"The choice is yours to make, Princess, but don't give your heart to a stone," Balthier implored. "You're too strong for that."

"I pray you're right, Balthier," she said. "And thank you, for telling me this."

"Does this change anything for you?" he asked her, looking at her intently.

She shook her head. "No, it doesn't. Does it change things for you, now that I know this?"

"No," he said firmly. "I felt the need to tell you, to show you the same trust you've shown me. So I'd say we're about even now."

She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. "About," she responded lightly. "Come, let's go see what Basch and Fran have bought us this time."

He followed her back to the Hunters' Camp proper, and he felt strangely lighter, now that he'd told Ashe about Dr. Cid. He only hoped that her newfound knowledge wouldn't prevent her from doing what had to be done on this journey.

He had come to the conclusion when he'd first gotten pulled into this situation that he might have to destroy his own father. He had made his peace with it and he didn't wish for anyone to make him start questioning himself.

The only thing he cared to be questioning right now was when Ashe would request his services again. He hoped she wouldn't wait too long.

There was definitely potential for mind-blowingly good sex with Her Royal Highness, and it would be just the release that he needed to get through this next leg of the trip to Archades. And, if he wasn't mistaken, it would be just the release _she _needed as well.


	2. Boundaries

_**Chapter Two**  
**Boundaries**_

_Ooh, I want you, I don't know if I need you  
But ooh, I'd die to find out  
-- Savage Garden "I Want You"_

Blasted snake.

The Tchita Uplands were notorious for the particularly aggressive strain of serpent that roamed the grassy plains freely. The group had trekked all day across the field without too many problems, and they had just about finished clearing out the area, when the _blasted snake_ slithered up beside Balthier and took a bite out of his forearm.

Ruined a perfectly good shirt, too.

Ashe had been fighting near him, and when she heard him curse, she pivoted and cut down the offending creature before Balthier could even cock his gun. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't damn impressive -- both the speed _and_ the grace she possessed in battle.

"Are you all right?" she asked, sheathing her sword and stepping toward him.

"I'm fine," he snapped, causing her brow to furrow in confusion. "Don't make a fuss. I don't need everyone in a lather about a sodding snake bite. Got these all the blasted time when I was younger …" he muttered under his breath.

Ashe didn't say anything about that, thinking that he probably hadn't even realized he'd said the last bit out loud. "How much farther to Archades?" she said, figuring that to be a safe topic.

She was wrong. His normally warm eyes clouded over, and his facial expression went blank. She winced inadvertently at the change in him.

"A few days still," he said sourly. "We're about half-a-day from the Sochen Cave Palace."

"The what?" Ashe asked, incredulous. There was a _palace_ here?

"It's the secret way into Archades," he explained. "We'll want to avoid it after dark." He didn't need to go on, the tone of his voice said it all.

"Then we'll make camp here for the night," Ashe decided. "I'll tell the others." She turned to go, but Balthier's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Ashe." One word, a word -- _her name_, for Faram's sake -- that she had heard all of her life. But when _he _said it -- it was different. And she wasn't quite sure _why_. She turned her head, cast him a long look over her shoulder. He had an expectant expression on his face, a warm glow in his eyes. She smiled slightly, nodded a little.

Words weren't necessary -- not this time.

xXx

_Later that evening …_

Balthier was in a foul mood. He wished everyone would bloody well go to sleep and give him some sodding _peace_. He was sitting as far away from the camp as he could reasonably be, in what he'd hoped would be out of earshot from the group. He'd been wrong.

He needed to _think_. In a few days, they'd be in Archades -- the place he'd _sworn_ six years ago that he would never go back to. And not only would they be in Archades -- they were going to have to deal with the Good Doctor, as well.

He hated the pain he always felt in his heart when he thought about Cid. He shouldn't still care about a man who no longer cared about _him_.

It would be easier, he supposed, if things had always been bad. Alas, no such luck. Once upon a time, Cidolfus Demen Bunansa had been a husband, a father, a friend … and a young boy called Ffamran had wanted to be just like him.

"Fuck it," he muttered now, into the darkness, wishing he could literally erase that part of his past.

"Archades troubles you." Fran's voice, soothing as water, came from behind him. She walked over and sat beside him on the fallen tree.

"It shouldn't though, should it?" he questioned rhetorically. "It's supposed to be the past. _You _cut your ties to the past."

Fran said nothing, and Balthier knew better than to press any further. Fran didn't want to talk about Jote and Mjrn -- she never did. "You will be fine," she said after a seemingly interminable amount of time. "You always manage to come through everything unscathed, somehow." She shook her head, her silver hair dancing about her shoulders in the moonlight.

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time either, did Balthier think how much _easier_ his life would be if he could just fall in love with Fran. They had no secrets (well, almost none) from each other. They were, in almost every way, a perfect match.

But perhaps therein lie the problem. There was no more mystery. No excitement. They were comfortable with each other, and they knew each other's thoughts. But there was no passion, no heat. He certainly didn't get that wonderful anxious knot in his stomach when he saw Fran; well, not any _more,_ any way. And he was pretty sure he annoyed the hell out of her sometimes. They were best friends, and would probably remain so until his dying day. But he would never be _in love _with Fran.

"You have racing thoughts," Fran said, snapping him out of his reverie. "Not for the first time do I wonder why you accepted this journey as your own." Knowing he wouldn't answer her, she handed him a small vial of ointment. "You'll need this, for that bite." She touched his hand briefly. "You should learn to be more careful."

He didn't ask how she knew about the bite -- somehow, Fran _always _knew _everything_. "Thanks," was all he said.

"Good night," Fran said after a long moment of silence, standing to head back to camp. "Get some sleep."

He waved her off dismissively, and she shook her head, amused. So stubborn, that boy. She wished desperately that he'd talk to _someone_ -- someone besides her. She knew it all already, and she would never be able to give him what he needed most. He needed love. Not the kind of love _she _had for him, though she had a lot of that. He needed the kind of love that makes you glad, finally, that you were born.

He hadn't had that in so long.

It was then that she noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She started to reach for her bow, but then realized that it was a person, and not a monster. And not just _any_ person, either.

The Princess, obviously trying to sneak away from camp, unseen. Fran watched as Ashe made her way to where Balthier was sitting, and then the viera pursed her lips in thought, and went back to camp.

xXx

She wasn't as stealthy as she'd hoped to be. And once she was there, standing behind him, looking at the outline of his back in the moonlight, she wasn't exactly sure what to do next.

He turned around, prepared to make some joke about her less-than-subtle escapade. But when he saw her, words failed him.

She was barefoot -- her boots had made far too much noise for sneaking about in -- and she had removed her leg armor. All of this was affording Balthier an unprecedented look at the incredibly long, shapely legs of Her Royal Highness.

She cleared her throat and he realized he'd been staring rather blatantly. His eyes roamed upwards lazily, and he noted she was without the neckpiece she always wore, and her blonde hair was tied back with a leather cord. Her neck looked incredibly long and soft, and Balthier wanted desperately to find out what it tasted like. The knowledge that she had come here for one reason and one reason only was insanely arousing to him.

She said nothing at first, just walked over and sat down beside him. "How is your arm?" she finally asked.

"Bloody hurts," he said honestly, earning a smile from the Princess.

She reached for his arm, then recoiled quickly. "May I -- may I see it?" she asked carefully. He shrugged and she tentatively took his arm in her hands. Carefully, she pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing his forearm. She admired its firmness beneath her fingertips.

She cringed, however, when she saw the wound. It was deep, and the skin around it was an ugly, angry red. It was oozing some sort of viscous liquid, and Ashe tried to keep her sudden nausea hidden. "Gods," she whispered, turning to reach into her pouch.

"I have this," Balthier said, handing her the ointment Fran had brought him. Ashe took it and unscrewed the cap.

Balthier watched with interest as she cleaned the wound as best she could with water from her canteen. "It's fresh," she assured him. "I just got it from the spring a bit ago." He was amused that she would justify it -- as if he'd think she were trying to poison him in some manner.

She bowed her head over the wound and concentrated on applying the ointment as carefully as she could. Her fingers were feather light, and they felt so good against his skin, until she put the first dab of ointment on his arm. He hissed at the sting of it involuntarily, and she looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It … burns, right?" He nodded. "All right then." She lifted his arm up, close to her lips, and blew gently on the lesion.

He could honestly say that if his arm had sodding fallen _off_ at that moment, he would scarcely have noticed. She looked up at him, and their eyes met briefly. "Stop," he managed to croak.

"Is it not helping?" Ashe asked, feeling slightly dizzy and not sure why.

"It's helping a little _too_ much," he said, and her eyes widened with understanding. "But, you might still be … You don't have to."

Ashe shook her head, traced her fingers along the bend of his elbow, causing goosebumps to form on his arms. "It's okay," she told him softly. "I want to. It's why I'm here."

"Thank gods," he groaned, leaning over to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He just wanted to _smell _her … just so he would know. He didn't know when he started using his mouth on that lovely, long neck, but he knew he couldn't stop.

Ashe sighed a little, and reached over to cup him through his trousers. He moaned at the contact, and she deftly flicked the button of his pants, freeing him.

She climbed onto his lap and slowly lowered herself onto him. She gritted her teeth at the initial contact, but found it to be much more bearable this time around.

She felt Balthier's tongue snaking its way along her collarbone, his hands on her hips. He held her steady, and she knew it was taking him an incredible amount of control to allow her to go so slow. "Are you okay?" he whispered against her neck, his breath hot on her skin. A shiver went straight down her spine to her core and she trembled slightly from the sensation.

Balthier, thinking she was cold, wrapped his arms about her and pulled her closer to him. "I'm … fine," she breathed, and moved her hips ever-so-slightly, allowing him to go deeper. "Ohh," she moaned. "I'm good." She nodded, smiling a little, touched by his obvious concern for her comfort.

He began to thrust upward, and she moved her hips, tentatively at first, until it actually began to feel _good_. "Mmm," she sighed, burying her face in his neck as they moved together.

She felt his hands on the small of her back, under her shirt, heard his breath start to become shallow and fast. "It's all right," she whispered in his ear. "Go ahead."

The feel of her lips against his ear was enough for him, and he came, squeezing her ass as he did. "Oh, gods," he breathed, resting his head against her chest. "I'm sorry," he told her.

She slowly crawled off of him, stood, and began straightening her clothes and hair. "Don't be," she said kindly. "It was -- very nice, this time." She smiled teasingly. "I've high hopes for you."

This earned a laugh from him. "I could say the same about you," he retorted, as he set himself to rights again. "You have a fantastic set of legs, Princess."

Ashe froze. "Don't," she said in a tight, cautious voice.

"Don't what?" Balthier asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't say things like that," Ashe told him firmly. "It's not necessary."

"Necessary? Ashe, it's the _truth_. I'm not just saying …"

He didn't finish his sentence, for she had already taken off, back toward the camp, leaving Balthier utterly befuddled as to what he had done to make her run like that.


	3. Clarity

_**Chapter Three**  
**Clarity**_

_You give your hand to m, and then you say hello  
And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so  
And anyone can tell, you think you know me well  
But you don't know me  
-- Jann Arden "You Don't Know Me"_

She avoided him the next morning. Didn't even spare him so much as a sidelong glance the entire time it took them to reach the Sochen Cave Palace. He wondered, again, what exactly he had done wrong? Everything seemed to have gone well …

_Too well, perhaps_, his inner-most thoughts chimed. He had definitely felt the stirrings of … _what_, exactly? Had Ashe felt it too, that strange _pulling _sensation? Was that why she ran?

His thoughts were interrupted by Vaan's complaining. "Are you sure this _rabbit hole's _the way into Archades?" the younger man griped.

Balthier rolled his eyes. He _hated_ being questioned. "If you'd prefer to go knocking on the front gates of the city, be my guest," he snapped irritably.

Penelo looked worried. "But … what about once we're … _inside_?" she asked nervously. "Won't the city watch find us?"

Ashe was quick to reassure the younger girl. "We'll do what we can to blend into the crowd. Our names may be well-known, but our faces are not."

"True, true," Vaan interjected. "You're our Princess, and _we _didn't even recognize you."

Ashe's ice-blue eyes flashed on the younger man. "I noticed," she said dryly. She began to walk a little farther into the cave, away from the group. She hadn't slept well the night before, and she just wanted a little peace and quiet.

Vaan seemed nonplussed by her cool tone, but Penelo shook her head at him in irritation, wishing he'd learn to _think _before he spoke.

Fran turned to Basch to explain the layout of the underground cave network, so that they might plot out the best way to navigate through it.

Sensing his opportunity, Balthier walked over to Ashe, casually, so it would appear that they were just having a little chat. "_You _ran away last night," he said in a low voice, so that no one would overhear.

"I did not wish to continue the conversation," Ashe said haughtily.

Balthier sighed in frustration. Every time she got that holier-than-thou tone in her voice, he had the strongest urge to knock her down a peg or two. "So you just run away from conversations you don't want to have? That bodes well for Dalmasca's future, doesn't it?" he sneered.

She glared at him. "There are _rules_," she hissed at him. "Rules that we both agreed to when we started this arrangement."

"I don't recall breaking any of your rules last night," he said.

"From now on, we don't talk about it." He opened his mouth to say more and she held up her hand. "At all. What are discussions about it going to accomplish? _Nothing_."

"So you'll let me fuck you, but you don't want to _talk_?" he asked as bluntly as he possibly could. For some reason, he wanted to make her mad. Maybe _then_ she'd lose the attitude she was carrying around.

She gasped, shocked at what he'd just said to her. "Balthier." She gritted her teeth. "This conversation is _over_."

He grinned at her. The cocky, arrogant bastard had the nerve to _actually grin at her_ after what he'd said. "Oh, mad, are you?" he snarked.

"I'm glad that you're amused," she said condescendingly.

"And _I'm _glad that you're angry. You made _me _angry last night," he told her truthfully. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's one thing. But don't run away from me. I thought I had offended you in some way."

She took a deep breath. "I apologize," she said after a long pause. "But I don't … want to talk about it. The chances of someone overhearing are too great. So just … don't."

"Fair enough," he said. "If you'd have just asked nicely in the first place …"

"You would have done exactly the same thing," she finished for him, trying not to smile.

"Probably," he shrugged, and she sighed affectedly. "Come, let's get back to the group before they start to …"

"Hey! Are you two coming or not?" Vaan's voice beckoned from across the room.

"Yell," Balthier finished wryly.

They walked back to the rest of the group, and Ashe immediately went to talk to Basch to see what he'd learned from Fran. The knight was eyeing her warily as she joined him.

"Is there a problem?" she asked him.

"You and Balthier seemed to be having quite the conversation," Basch pointed out.

"I walked away from the group to have a moment to myself, and he followed me. I have no control over what he does," Ashe said, affecting a bored tone.

"If he's bothering you, Majesty …" Basch began, but Ashe quickly waved her hand to stop him.

"No, no, Basch, it's fine, really." She stifled a small giggle. "You needn't worry so much about me. And Balthier is … harmless." She cast a surreptitious glance out of the corner of her eye toward the pirate, and was surprised to see him looking back at her. She averted her eyes quickly, cursing herself for getting caught.

xXx

The group wandered the underground palace for several hours before Basch suggested stopping to rest for a while in a large, circular chamber.

Ashe looked around the room, wrinkling her nose slightly at the desiccated remains of a few unlucky travelers that littered the ground. "Here?" she questioned, not wanting to seem petulant, but … she _did_ still have _some_ standards.

"We've still got about four or five hours in this wretched place," Balthier informed her. "And this is probably the _nicest _room we're like to find."

"Is that a corpse?" she heard Penelo whisper nervously to Vaan, who did his best to reassure her.

"I can't believe they call this place a palace," Ashe remarked, sitting down carefully on some stone steps several hundred feet from the rest of the group.

"Several hundred years ago," Fran began, "it was quite beautiful, I'm told. They say it was built during the Galtean Alliance, but there are no records of it anywhere."

"I can't imagine why anyone would want their palace underground," Vaan murmured.

Ashe didn't say anything, but for once, she was apt to agree with him. She'd lived underground for the past two years with the Resistance, she couldn't imagine having a permanent home there.

"It probably worked well for defense," Basch supplied, ever the knight.

"I couldn't do without being able to see the sky," Ashe said, at the same time Balthier spoke the same words. They looked at each other and Ashe smiled faintly.

Fran's lips quirked in amusement at the exchange. "Perhaps her Majesty would make a fine sky pirate?" she said lightly.

Ashe laughed a little. "Perhaps I would." She sighed, and the old fear crept back into her belly. _Perhaps I'd be a better pirate than I will be a Queen_.

The group ate and rested for an hour or so before Balthier finally started to urge them along. "We don't want to be here after dark. Don't ask me how they know, but the fiends in this place seem to get a little more aggressive when the sun goes down."

They hurriedly gathered their weapons and supplies and started for the exit. Balthier caught Ashe's arm before she could go along with the other. "Yes?" she said, searching his face in confusion.

"We're not that different, you and me," he told her. "You'd be wise to remember that."

Ashe said nothing at first, she just sighed. "Perhaps."

"Once we're in Archades …" he started, but she stopped him.

"I know," she told him, and then walked away.

xXx

They reached Old Archades at dusk. As they emerged from the Sochen Cave Palace, a fetid smell reached their nostrils and Ashe very nearly gagged.

"Smells less like an capital and more like a sewer," Vaan commented, echoing what everyone else had been thinking.

Balthier sighed. "Even Empires have need of sewers, Vaan," he said. "The runoff from Archades proper pools down here. Those who lack papers to live in the city itself. The mighty who have fallen and the fallen who would be mighty … Their eyes never leave Archades."

"Must be a lot nicer than this place, huh?" Vaan commented.

"To be sure," Balthier said sarcastically. "Archades reeks of a _different_ kind of filth. Come on, we can follow our noses to Draklor."

They trudged through the narrow, maze-like streets of what Balthier said was "Old Archades", past several people who asked for handouts, several who looked at them suspiciously. Some people just babbled what seemed to be utter nonsense.

Ashe's heart ached. This was how the Empire treated it's _own_? Her hands balled into fists as she thought about how _badly_ she wanted revenge for all of the Empire's wrongs.

They made it to the Archadian city gate, and were promptly turned away by the surly guards. Sighing, they turned and walked back into the cesspool of Old Archades.

"What now?" Vaan started to ask, but was interrupted by one of the residents.

"Well, well, well. There's a sight for sore eyes," the man said, approaching the party. He was disheveled, rather wild-eyed, and his clothes had definitely seen better days. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. Not around here, at least."

"Oh, wonderful," Balthier muttered. "Enter the streetear."

"You know this guy?" Vaan asked.

"An old … friend," Balthier said disdainfully. "Name of Jules."

"And who might your traveling companions be?" Jules wanted to know, his eyes lingering on Ashe for longer than Balthier felt was necessary.

"I'm Vaan, and this is Penelo, and this is Ba …" Vaan trailed off as Penelo stepped on his foot, hard. "Ow! Penelo … what did you do that …" Penelo raised her eyebrows, cocked her head in Basch's direction, and frowned. Realization dawned, and he stepped back sheepishly.

It didn't matter, Jules hadn't been paying the least bit of attention to him. His focus was solely on Ashe. "And who might you be?" he asked flirtatiously.

"This is Amalia," Balthier said quickly, stepping between Ashe and Jules.

"Pleased to meet you," Ashe said coolly.

"What is it that you do exactly, Jules?" Penelo asked, sensing the tension in the air between Ashe, Jules, and Balthier. Though she didn't know what was going on, it was in her nature to diffuse such situations whenever she could.

Balthier answered this as well. "Jules is a streetear. A peddler of rumor and hearsay." Glaring at the other man, he finished with "He'd bite a gil given him by his own mother, and shave it by half to pay for her funeral."

"Sometimes an ear with tight purse string's the order of the day," Jules said, arms crossed in front of his skinny form. "Like when a pirate decides he fancies going _up_ in the world?"

"To the city?" Vaan asked excitedly. "You know a way?"

"Knowledge is power in Archades," Jules told him. "And power has a way of opening doors, boy. Tell you what … pay me 1500 gil and I'll tell you more."

Ashe started to protest, but Vaan was already forking over the gil. "Vaan," Penelo hissed.

"Bright boy," Jules said, obviously pleased with his coup. "You learn fast. I call this meeting to order. Tell me, boy, did you hear any rumors in town?"

Vaan thought for a minute. "Well, there was this guy who found a bag of coins in a barrel," he said after a pause.

"Bags in barrels, eh? A boy would do well to bring that morsel of information to a man named Beasley near here. Just go tell him exactly what you told me."

Vaan and Penelo quickly hurried off to do so, and Fran motioned to Basch and Ashe. "We should give them a minute," Fran said wisely, inclining her head in Balthier's and Jules' direction. Ashe looked back over her shoulder as she was led away from the two men, wondering what _exactly_ was going on there.

She didn't think this … Jules … seemed very friendly at all. She noticed him watching her walk away, and his leer made her feel slightly nauseous.

When they were out of earshot, Jules let out a low whistle. "What's a pretty, prissy little thing like that doing with the likes of you?"

"Who? Vaan?" Balthier asked caustically.

"Nice try," Jules retorted. "The blonde with the fake name. _Amalia_." Something about the way Jules said her name made Balthier want to put his smarmy face through a brick wall.

"It's not a fake name," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, no? I'd wager it's as fake a name as yours. _Balthier_," Jules sneered.

"Have you nothing better to yammer about?" Balthier asked irritably.

"Oh, I could yammer at great length about the _lack _of length of that skirt …"

Balthier's fists balled. "She's off-limits," he snarled.

"Meaning you've got your own designs on her," Jules implied. At Balthier's expression, he burst out laughing. "You've already boffed her, haven't you?"

Balthier didn't get a chance to respond to that, for the rest of the party was back, Ashe leading the way. "You don't know how lucky you just got," he said in a dangerously low tone to the streetear.

"Ah, you told Beasley just as I told you?" Jules said, turning his attention to Vaan.

"Yeah, but I don't see what any of this has to do with us getting into the city," the younger boy complained.

"Just watch," Jules said. "Witness the power of knowledge."

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from the alley behind them. "'Ey! 'Tis a fight! Beasley's gone wild!"

The guards from the gate were suddenly rushing toward the site of the fray, leaving their post unattended. Vaan grinned. "Now's our chance! Thanks a lot, Jules!" The party hurried up the stairs toward the city.

Balthier stayed behind. "Never thought you'd go for such a meager price," he commented, shaking his head.

"A pirate should know that words are worth gil uncountable," Jules said. "Here's some words for you: The prodigal Bunansa son's come back to the Imperial roost. And with a _princess_ in tow, no less." Balthier's head snapped up, and Jules just nodded. "See? Words of much value, those."

"Talk about me all you want. But you leave _her _out of it," Balthier hissed, jerking the streetear up by his collar and then shoving him away viciously. "She's got enough trouble on her own without you adding to it." He hurried to follow the others into the city, vowing that if Jules said _anything _about Ashe, he would personally send him to an early grave.

By the time he'd caught up to the party, he'd calmed down considerably. But with the clarity came an unsettling question. Why _had_ he been so defensive of Ashe? True, he would have defended Penelo or Fran in the same way, but his blood had been boiling long before Jules had even said a word.

It was the way he had _looked _at her, Balthier finally conceded. Like she was something he wanted to gobble up, and the mere _idea _of anyone else touching Ashe made Balthier feel as though he'd been slipped some Bacchus' Wine.

Why the bloody hell _was _that? There was absolutely no reason for him to feel this damned possessive.

"Balthier?" Ashe's voice brought him back to reality. "Is everything all right?" She looked deeply concerned, and Balthier was honestly touched that she cared so much.

"Yes, of course, Princess," he said off-handedly. But inside, his mind was screaming at him. _No! Nothing is all right. Not any more … not ever again._

Ashe just nodded, figuring that Balthier and Jules must have some bad blood from long ago between them. "All right," she said quietly. "Everyone was wondering where the best place to stay for the night would be."

Balthier brought himself to the present and led them to one of Archadia's middle-of-the-line inns, The Fiorenza. "It's not fancy," he said. "But it has beds and it's clean."

Penelo sighed dreamily. "A bed. _That_ will be heaven all on its own."

Ashe nodded her concurrence. "Indeed. And a _bath_." She smiled at the thought.

Everyone hurried to their rooms, and Ashe paused before going toward her own. "I'm … tired tonight. But … if you …"

Balthier just shook his head. "No. I'm knackered, myself. Get some sleep, Princess. Tomorrow we go to Draklor."

"Are you … How do feel about that?" She fell into step with him as they walked down the hallway.

"Honestly? I don't know." They reached her door, and he took the key from her hand, unlocked it, and held it open for her.

Ashe smiled a little to herself at the chivalrous gesture. "Thank you," she said. "Good night, Balthier."

She started to go inside, then turned around. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around him. The hug didn't last long, and she wasn't sure why she did it … but he just looked … so _sad_. "Try to sleep," she whispered to him, squeezing his upper arm just a little, before she disappeared into her room.

As she stood against the closed door, she found that her heart was beating harder than it had been.

_What is going on here?_ she wondered.

He wondered the same thing as he walked bemusedly to his own room.


	4. Desparation

_**Chapter Four**  
**Desperation**_

_Just close your eyes  
Reach for the moment  
Before it slips by  
Here is your second chance  
Take it and fly  
-- Trisha Yearwood "Second Chance"_

The following day had gone from bad to worse. Ashe mused over all the information that they had gathered in so short a time as she luxuriated in a bubble bath at the Reddas Manse in Balfonheim Port.

Reddas -- a mysterious sky pirate who had shown up at Draklor and confronted Dr. Cid with them -- had been kind enough to allow them to stay at his home for a few days, while they deliberated over and prepared to make for the Ancient City of Giruvegan. Dr. Cid had told _her _specifically, to go there. She wasn't sure she could trust anything the man said … but she didn't have any idea where else she was to go.

Sighing, she thought about Draklor, about Dr. Cid. About Balthier. Everything … everything seemed so confused right now. And seeing what the nethicite had done to Dr. Cid … it scared her. Would she become like that, if she continued this quest? Would she truly become blinded by the nethicite?

Had Cid always been weak, she wondered? Was he a perfect candidate to be used and abused by the stone's power?

_Was she?_

Deciding that there was only one person who could answer these questions for her, she climbed out of the tub and quickly dried herself off. Debating on whether or not she should get redressed, or just put on her nightgown, she opted for the latter. She wasn't going to stay long; she just wanted to talk. She needed answers, before she could decide whether or not to continue on.

She pulled the simple blue gown over her head, and tied a thin robe around it. It was sad, she knew, that her finest articles of clothing any more, were nightclothes. Taking a deep breath, afraid to ask the questions she needed to ask, she left her room and padded down the hallway.

She paused outside the door that she knew to be his, trying to calm her fraying nerves. She didn't know _why_ this felt so different. Nothing had changed … so why, why now was she so afraid to knock? Was it not just _Balthier_, who she trusted more than she trusted _anyone else_?

She had come to that revelation whilst she had been bathing … and even though she tried to argue that it was _Basch_ she should place all of her trust in, she couldn't deny the fact that _Balthier _was who she wanted when things got too hard to handle. He didn't treat her as though she was made of glass, and she appreciated that. And he didn't lie to her. Not once, since she'd met him, had he lied. He might be the most irritating person she had ever known, but he was also the most genuine.

With that thought in mind, she raised her hand and knocked. "Come in," came the answer.

She opened the door. The room was dark, save for one small oil lamp burning on the bedside table. He was sitting on the bed, propped up against the pillows, his long legs stretched out before him. He was shirtless, and his trousers were unbuttoned. Ashe was glad for the lack of light in the room, for she knew she stared a bit longer than was proper at his lean, muscled torso and arms.

"Ah, Princess," he said, genuinely pleased, and a bit surprised, to see her there. He had thought it was Fran at the door.

"I'm not … I didn't … I hope I'm not disturbing you," she finally said. "I wanted to …" He quirked one eyebrow at her, and she shook her head. "Talk," she finished. "I just wanted to talk to you. I have … questions."

She didn't have to say more. He nodded and stood up, turning up the oil lamp so that the room was brighter. He sat back down on the bed, motioning for her to sit beside him. She hesitated, and then decided it didn't matter and sat down.

"You want to know about Cid," he said plainly once she was seated.

"Were things always unpleasant with him?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to pry into matters that didn't involve her, and she didn't want him to resent her for dredging up bad memories.

He took a moment to answer her. "Not at all," he finally said. "Once upon a time, he was a good man. A great man. He was always a brilliant scientist, of course, but he was also devoted and kind. My hero, very long ago."

Ashe felt her throat tighten as she listened to him. It was obvious from his tone that he had loved his father very much … that he _still_ did.

"It hurts, to lose your father," she supplied. "I know something of that. Although," sighing, she looked at him carefully, "I think I have it easier than you do."

How hard it must be, she thought, to know that your father is still alive and walking around, but he wants nothing at all to do with you. "What happened to him?"

"House Solidor, for one," Balthier said. "They hired him as the Imperial Scientist, and got him involved in all manner of illicit matters. And then my mother died …" He stopped talking then, and Ashe didn't press.

"Things changed then, didn't they?" she said softly. "He … changed?"

"Work was all he cared about after that. I was 14 then. The Empire sent him off to Giruvegan shortly thereafter … and it hasn't been the same since."

"Giruvegan," Ashe repeated. "Should I go there? Is it worth the risk? What do you think?"

He paused, looked at her. She was asking _his_ opinion? "Are you asking if I think you should go to Giruvegan, or if I think you'll end up like the old man?"

Ashe shrugged. "Both, I suppose." She stood up and crossed the room to look out the window, over the port city of Balfonheim. "Once upon a time, your father was a great man. And look what nethicite did to _him_. What would it do to _me_, were I to let it? And if _I _fail … where does that leave Dalmasca?"

"You carry a lot of weight on your shoulders," Balthier said, and it was as if he was finally realizing it for himself. "How did it come to fall on you so hard? If I recall correctly, there was a whole army of B'Nargin Dalmascan children."

Ashe nodded. "Nine. Eight boys, one girl. They're gone. The war took every single one of them … well, except for Alastair. He was sick, from birth, I guess. But he died when he was just five. I was only three, so I don't really remember him very well. Just that he was the closest to my size." She smiled wanly.

"Eight brothers?" Balthier asked. "And you're the youngest?"

She nodded. "Do you pity me? You shouldn't. My brothers were amazing men. They all played a part in making me who I am today."

"And your mother? How did she deal with the lot of you?"

"My mother? She died shortly after I was born," Ashe said, very quietly. "Complications of some sort." She had never spoken of this to anyone before, not even Rasler. Rasler's family had known about Queen Amalia, so there had been no need to discuss it. She was mortified when the tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've never talked about this before."

"It's all right," Balthier said, though he was humbled that she had deemed him worthy enough to know. No wonder this Princess was tough-as-nails. She'd been through hell and back, and had lived to tell about it. "You must be the strongest person I've ever met," he said. He hadn't planned to say it out loud, but he didn't regret it.

Ashe's head snapped up. "Me?" she said incredulously. "Are you insane? I'm powerless."

"Ashe, most people who have gone through _a quarter _of what you've gone through wouldn't even be _alive_ to talk about it," Balthier told her.

"Well, everyone _thinks _I'm dead," Ashe replied. "The princess who took her life when she lost her kingdom. It makes for a nice, tragic story, doesn't it?"

"The true story's better," Balthier told her, and she smiled at him, really smiled.

"Do you think so?"

"Well, I, for one, am glad you're not dead," he said earnestly.

"Well, that makes two of us," she said dryly.

"There are at least four other people who would agree with me," he remarked.

"You're right, of course. I'm wallowing in self-pity, and it's very unbecoming of me," Ashe said, regaining her royal composure. "Giruvegan. What do you think?"

"You're strong. But even the strongest people can fall to the nethicite," Balthier said honestly. "You'll make the right decision. You've done all right so far, haven't you? Besides. I think you've already made up your mind."

Ashe nodded. "You're right, I have. Thanks to you."

He sighed, defeated. "When do we leave?"

"Not tomorrow. We'll wait, and rest, one more day here," she said pensively. "But then we'll go." She cast another glance out the window, noted that many of the city lights had gone off and wondered just how long she'd been here, talking to the pirate. "It's late. I'll go, and let you get some sleep. You certainly don't need a mess of a princess keeping you awake all night."

"You could stay," he told her. "I wouldn't mind having a 'mess of a princess' keeping me awake for a bit longer." He winked at her.

She looked at him narrowly. "Is that so?" Sighing, she looked to the door, and back at him. She crossed the room slowly, preparing to tell him good night and be on her way, but he grabbed her hand, kissed her fingertips lightly, and drew her down on the bed beside him.

He ran his fingers through her flaxen hair, pulled her head back and exposed her neck to his lips. "Ohhh," she moaned as he kissed a soft line from her ear to her collarbone. "I guess … I could … stay … for a … while."

He grinned wickedly. "Thought you'd see it my way." He began loosening the belt on her robe, and Ashe shrugged out of it as soon as he'd untied it. He slid his hands up underneath the skirt of her nightgown, his fingertips playing lightly on her thighs. "This has got to go," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

She stood up and pulled the garment over her head slowly, the realization dawning on her that this was the first time he was going to see her naked. Taking a deep breath, she finished removing it and tossed it aside, a feeling of trepidation washing over her.

Balthier exhaled loudly. "My gods," he murmured, walking toward her. "You are so beautiful."

Ashe froze. Part of her was strangely delighted to hear those words coming from him. But the bigger part of her wanted to turn and run as far away from this room and from him as possible. Why did he insist on _saying_ those things? Was he _teasing_ her?

He was standing before her now, and he had taken her face in his hands. She saw the glow in his eyes, the way he kept looking at her mouth. The instant before his lips made contact, she turned her head, and he ended up kissing her jaw instead.

Realizing his faux pas, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't leave." Gods, if she left now … he hadn't meant to say those things, hadn't _really_ meant to try to kiss her. But she was so incredibly gorgeous, and he hadn't been able to help himself.

He didn't think he'd ever wanted another woman this much in his entire life.

She relaxed a little, let him lay her down on the bed. He kissed her neck, and cupped her breasts with his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until they were taut and ready for his mouth to devour. When he placed his mouth on her breast and lavished her nipple with his tongue, she cried out and arched her back.

He let his hands roam lower over her body, until they reached the junction of her thighs. He slid one finger into her, slowly, torturously, until she whimpered. "More," she moaned. "Gods, more."

He lifted her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. He got to his knees and slowly kissed and licked his way from her breasts, around her navel, and finally he slid his tongue over her most sensitive of spots. He had vowed to make this time all about her, since the last two times hadn't been. And there was really no better way than this.

Her eyes widened when she felt his mouth and tongue on her. _No one_ had ever done this to her before -- she'd read about it, of course, but she'd had no idea it would feel so incredible. She fisted her hands in his hair and whimpered at him not to stop -- _ever_.

He used his fingers to penetrate her while he continued licking her clit. The sensations of it were overpowering for Ashe, and it didn't take long at all before the orgasm ripped through her core, all the way throughout her body, and she cried out in pure ecstasy. "_Oh my gods!_"

He made quick work of removing his trousers and joining her on the bed. After they were repositioned, he spread her legs and thrust into her, not worrying about being gentle this time. She wrapped her legs around his back and lifted her hips to drive him deeper inside of her. The angle caused him to hit just the right spot within her and she keened as she came again.

The feel of her inner walls squeezing him like a damp fist was enough to make him find his own release, and with a guttural cry, he let himself go and then collapsed on top of her. They were both slick with sweat and breathing heavily. He was still inside her, and he felt no inclination to move.

She was gods-damned perfect. Everything about her. And he didn't know how he felt about feeling that way.

After several moments, Ashe groaned softly. "You're going to have to move," she told him. "I have to go."

"Go?" he asked as he rolled away from her.

"Back to my own room," she explained as she gathered her clothing off of the floor. She slid the nightgown over her head and pulled the robe back on.

"Stay here," he told her suddenly, and she stopped tying the robe's belt.

"What?" she asked him.

"Just stay here with me," he requested.

Ashe's eyes clouded over. Again, he was toying with her. If she _were _to say yes, he would probably just laugh and tell her to go back to her own room. Why did that thought sting? Wasn't this _exactly _what she wanted? "Balthier, I can't stay the night here with you. You know that. Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Didn't realize that I was," he muttered sourly. How the hell did this always manage to go south for them? Was it possible that a purely sexual relationship just wasn't going to work? Much as he tried to deny it, Ashe wasn't just an object to him … not just a means to an end.

She _was _the end. Whatever it was he'd been looking for all this time -- he was certain that he'd finally found it. The gods toyed with him, surely.

She looked at him, a pained expression on her face. "Did I do something to upset you?" she finally asked him. "We both got what we wanted out of this tonight. What more is there?" She turned and went to the door. "Good night," she said quietly. He didn't say anything, so she opened the door and headed back to her own room.

What was _wrong_ with him? Why did he _insist_ on turning everything into a game? Why had he tried to kiss her, when he _knew_ that was against the rules? And why did it suddenly matter so much?

And, gods … did he _really _think she was beautiful?

These were the thoughts that kept Ashe awake, tossing and turning, until the sun came up the next morning.


	5. Eclipse

_**Chapter Five**  
**Eclipse**_

_Once upon a time I was falling in love  
But now I'm only falling apart  
There's nothing I can do  
A total eclipse of the heart  
-- Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"_

Fran confronted Balthier the next morning, while the party was restocking their supplies for the upcoming trek to Giruvegan. "You have doubts about this," she remarked.

"I have doubts about _any_ suggestion from the old man," Balthier said glibly. "But the choice isn't mine to make. It's hers." He nodded in Ashe's direction.

Fran looked at the Princess, studied her carefully. Ashe seemed -- looser, freer, somehow. For the first time since this journey had begun, she almost appeared _relaxed_. Fran looked back at her partner. He looked smug, satisfied, and maybe a touch wistful.

"The Princess was in your room last night, wasn't she." Fran made it a statement, not a question. She caught the flash in Balthier's eyes, but he covered it quickly. Anyone else would have missed it, but she knew him too well.

"She was," he said disinterestedly. "You know, Fran, women _do _occasionally enjoy my conversational skills."

"Conversation," Fran said with amusement. "That's what kept Lady Ashe in your room until four this morning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Balthier told her. In his head though, he was cursing the vieras' sharp sense of hearing. _Four? _he thought with some fiendish delight. _She was there until __**four**_

"What you do is dangerous," Fran said gently. "She will be Queen."

Balthier's eyes immediately went to Basch, who was listening to Penelo chatter. The girl was probably happy to have some company other than _Vaan _for a change, and really, who could blame her? "We're both adults, Fran," he said. "And at the moment, I don't see or feel our good Captain's sword in my back. It would be greatly appreciated, my dear, dear girl, if you wouldn't give him cause to doubt my integrity."

"I wasn't speaking of physical danger," Fran retorted. "You're getting attached to her."

"Nonsense," Balthier said quickly -- _too _quickly.

Fran shook her head. "Be careful," she implored, her eyes searching his face. "You'd do well to stop lying."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Balthier said lightly, hoping to all the gods that Fran would change the subject.

Because, like always, she was absolutely right. About everything.

xXx

They made their plans to depart for Giruvegan the next morning. It would be a long trip -- Basch's calculations had surmised that it would take about three days to reach the Feywood, and then nearly a week after that to reach the Ancient City of Giruvegan.

Balthier groaned. If only the blasted Feywood wasn't in jagd. Taking the Strahl would be ever so much easier.

Looking around the table at Balfonheim's Whitecap, where they had stopped to dine before heading back to Reddas' Manse for the night, Balthier noticed a distinctive _lack _of Princess. "Where is Ashe?" he asked Penelo.

"She said she was tired, and headed back to the Manse," the younger girl said with a shrug. "She _did _say she hadn't gotten much sleep last night. I hope she's feeling all right. Maybe I should go check on her, now that you mention it …"

She started to stand, but Balthier placed a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down. "I'll take care of it," he told her. "Enjoy your evening."

"Um … okay?" Penelo said uncertainly. "Tell her she really needs to go to bed."

Balthier quirked at grin at her. "I will." He dropped some gil on the table to cover his portion of the food and drink, and excused himself.

"Are you feeling all right, then?" Basch asked the pirate, never having known him to retire this early.

Balthier yawned affectedly. "It's going to be a long trip, no? Just going to make sure I'm well-rested is all. You'd all be wise to do the same." Fran raised an eyebrow at him, and he shot her a warning look. "Good night, all."

He made haste back to the Manse, said a cursory hello to their host, who, mercifully, wasn't feeling particularly chatty that evening, and then headed up the stairs. He stopped outside the Princess' room and knocked. No answer. Brow furrowing, he tried the knob, found it unlocked.

The room was empty. Peeking into the adjoining bathroom, he found it to be royalty-less as well. "Where in the hell did she go?" he mused to himself. It was then that he noticed that all of Ashe's clothes were thrown about the room.

That meant that _wherever_ she was … she was … _Oh, gods_. Then he saw the slip of paper resting on the pillow of her bed. In her flowery, feminine script, it read:

_I've been thinking about moogles all day. _

"Little vixen," he muttered to himself as he crumpled up the note, grinning.

He knew where she was, felt his body react intensely at the thought. He exited the Princess' chambers and hurried down the hall to his own room. Sure enough, when he unlocked and opened the door, he saw her, lying in his bed, wearing naught but that flimsy blue negligee that she had worn the previous evening.

If it had ended there, he might've been all right, but no, the devil woman had taken it a step -- or _twenty_ -- further.

She had one of his good handkerchiefs, the ones he spritzed with a bit of cologne, and she held it up to her nose, a dreamy look on her face. Her other hand was making soft, slow circles on her upper thigh, where the peignoir gapped open. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be completely oblivious to her audience.

Just as he was debating whether or not to disturb her, she opened her eyes and smiled at him invitingly. "You're here," she said softly.

"Well, it _is _my room," he said, trying to make light of an insanely intense situation.

She shook her head, solemn all of a sudden. "Don't make jokes," she said. "Don't say anything. It seems as though when we _talk, _we make a mess of this. This will be the last chance we have like this for a while … so don't talk. Just … come here."

He pulled off his vest, shirt, and shoes, and joined the Princess in his bed. He ran his hand under the skirt of her nightgown, along her thigh, and relished in the sound of her gasp as he gently ran his finger across the slickness between her legs. "This is what you want, then?" he whispered as he drove his finger into her.

She moaned in response, but then stopped him. "No," she told him. "_This _is."

She reached her own hand down and unbuttoned his trousers, pushing them down his legs. He kicked them the rest of the way off, and his eyes widened in shock as she kissed and licked her way down his body, starting at his neck, and finally took him into her mouth.

The feel of her warm, wet mouth encircling him was almost enough to undo him completely. He fisted his hands in her hair as she licked and sucked him. She was tentative at first, but she listened to his groans and sounds of satisfaction, ascertained what he liked, and grew bolder with her ministrations.

He felt himself approaching his peak, and pulled her up gently by her hair. He gripped her hips and she lowered herself onto him. He pulled her negligee over her head and tossed it aside, and then hungrily sat up to devour her breasts with his mouth.

She gasped in pleasure, and moved herself up and down on him, loving the way he felt inside of her. She had never ever known that anything could feel so sublime. He reached his hand around and began to stroke her sensitive nub while she rode him, and soon, she was crying out in rapture. "Yes, oh gods, _yessss_!" she shouted as the orgasm tore through her.

He rolled her over in one swift movement so that she was pinned beneath him, and he began thrusting hard and fast. Ashe's world exploded for a second time, and then a third, and she could no longer form words. Tears of ecstasy formed in the corner of her eyes, and when she dared to open them, all she saw was _him_. Beautiful and full of light and … _everything_.

It hit her like lightning and she cried out, not just from pleasure, but from sheer terror as well. She felt his body tighten, felt him shudder and release a long cry of his own. He collapsed on top of her, nuzzled her neck, nipped at her ear lightly.

Ashe couldn't breathe. Everything … everything was different now, and if she didn't leave _soon_ … she might not leave at all. "I … I have to go," she said simply, pushing him off of her gently. "Before the others get back."

Balthier just looked at her, chose not to say anything. But he knew … something had felt different about her. She had clung more desperately to him than she had before, and now she was running away … again.

She pulled her nightgown back on, wrapped the robe tightly around it, and made for the door. She paused before she turned the knob. "That was …"

"Oh, I know, Princess," he said. He stood up and crossed the room, stood beside her at the door. "Ashe," he said in a barely audible voice. He lowered his head toward hers, his lips mere inches from her own.

Taking a deep breath and all of the will-power she possessed, she turned her head and opened the door.

When she was gone, Balthier leaned against the door and groaned in frustration. _Son of a bitch, _he cursed to himself. What had she _done _to him?

He was afraid he already knew the answer to that …

Ashe made it back to her room before her shaking knees gave out on her. _Damn it, damn it, damn it, _she cursed herself. _How _could she have let this happen?

And _why _did he keep trying to kiss her? It wasn't fair, it wasn't _agreed_ upon, and it was making her very angry. And she shouldn't be getting angry about it. She shouldn't be getting _anything_ about it … the only thing she was _supposed _to get was release and satisfaction.

There weren't supposed to _be _any emotions between herself and Balthier.

_So why was she falling in love with him?_

xXx

The party left for the Feywood early the next morning. Basch had been wrong in his calculations … it hadn't taken three days, it had taken _four_, to reach the eerie, Mist-laden boundaries of the Feywood. And in those four days, Ashe had avoided Balthier as much as she could.

He had tried to start conversations with her, and she had been civil, as she was raised to be, but she never talked to him for very long, and she always had an excuse to stop talking to him.

Fran approached him when they were about an hour into the Feywood. "I told you it was dangerous," she said in a low voice.

"And I told _you_ that you don't know what you're talking about," Balthier shot back. He loved Fran, but he didn't need her analyzing the situation. Gods knew, he was doing enough of _that _himself. "There's absolutely nothing going on here that is of any importance." When he said that, he feared it was the truth.

Ashe was having second thoughts. Second, third, and probably _fourth_ thoughts, come to think of it. Something had changed within her -- and within _himself_, if he was being totally honest -- that night in Balfonheim. What had _happened_ back there? And damn it, why wouldn't she look at him?

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realize that he had gotten separated from the group. And in the dense, swirling Mist, he had no idea where they were. "Oh, bloody perfect," he muttered disgustedly to himself. He had always prided himself on being aware of his surroundings at all times, and now _this_. It was embarrassing, that's what it was.

"Hullo!" he called out. "Can anyone hear me?" No one answered, and he honestly had no idea where the hell he was in this place.

The Mist was like a living being in the Feywood. It blinded worse than any snowstorm ever could, and made you feel disoriented, almost dizzy. He was sure he was headed North, just like they were supposed to, but he honestly didn't have a clue. He couldn't see his own hand when he held it up in front of his face.

"Hello!" he called out again. "Where the bleeding hell _is_ everyone?" He couldn't have strayed _that _far, could he?

He wasn't sure how long he'd wandered on his own, but the deeper he went into the Feywood, the more dazed he became. He couldn't quite remember what he was doing here, or how long he'd been lost. He'd heard that too much exposure to Mist was detrimental to one's mind, but he'd never really put much stock in those stories … until now.

xXx

"Wasn't he _just _talking to you?" Ashe demanded of Fran. "How could he just _disappear_ like that?" She put a hand to her forehead and blew out a long breath, searching the Mist frantically for any sign of the sky pirate. "Balthier!" she cried out. "Balthier, if this is one of your sick jokes, I _swear_ …" But she didn't finish her sentence. "Damn it, where _are _you?" she whispered in a voice so low that only she could hear.

She turned around and realized that she was alone. "Fran?" she cried out. She was just _right there_, how could she have disappeared so quickly? "Basch! Where _is_ everyone?"

She was trying to decide her best course of action when she heard Balthier's voice in the not-too-far-off distance. "Hello!" he cried out.

"Oh, thank Gods," she breathed. "Balthier! Balthier, I'm over here!" She started walking in the direction she'd heard his voice come from.

She saw the barrel of Balthier's gun in the distance and noted, with some confusion, that it seemed to be aimed at her. She spun quickly to see if there was a monster behind her that he was aiming at, saw nothing, and realized what was going on … one second too late.

"_Balthier! NO!_" she screamed. At that same moment, she heard the gunshot.

Then everything went black.

xXx

He'd seen the monster, off in the distance. It was large, a huge flash of white and red. He wasn't sure what _kind _of monsterit was, but the Feywood was notorious for some particularly foul breeds of beasts, and he wasn't about to leave his life up to chance.

He pointed the gun, his aim steady and true as always, and fired.

He heard a scream at the same time and assumed he had felled his foe. The veil of Mist lifted suddenly, as though it had never been there at all. All that he saw now was that it was snowing, and he watched the flakes falling gently to the already white ground.

The ground. The ground wasn't white up there … it was red. Red from the blood of the beast?

He started walking toward the crumpled form he saw in the distance. Funny … it wasn't as big as he'd remembered thinking it was. Suddenly, as he grew nearer to it, he felt a sick churning in his stomach.

"Oh, gods, no," he breathed in a near-panic. "No, no, no …"

He hadn't been shooting at some foul, vicious monster out here. He'd shot _her_.

"Oh, gods," he uttered, disbelieving, as he dropped to his knees beside her. "Ashe."


	6. Farce

_**Chapter Six**  
**Farce**_

_Don't think that I can take another empty moment  
Don't think that I can fake another hollow smile  
It's not enough just to be sorry  
Don't think that I could take another talk about it  
-- matchbox twenty, "Bed of Lies"_

There was blood everywhere, but Balthier scarcely noticed as he pulled Ashe into his arms. "Ashe," he breathed. Upon examining her, he saw that the wound was on her left temple. There was so much blood that it was impossible for him to discern the severity. He grabbed his handkerchief to try to staunch the flow, and noticed how much his hand was shaking. Her blood soaked through the thin cloth, and he knew that it was going to take more than a handkerchief to get the bleeding under control.

He tossed the bloodied fabric away and went to his satchels to find a potion, an elixir, _something_. His fingers fumbled on the clasps, and it took him several tries to finally get it unfastened. He shook his hand several times irritably, trying to stay the tremors. Several small trinkets fell out of the pack, landing on the snow-covered ground around them.

There were no potions. _Why_ were there no potions? Then he remembered -- he'd given his provisions to Fran for safekeeping. "Damn it!" he cursed, his voice louder and sharper than he had intended it to be. It snapped through the eerie quiet of the Feywood, seemed to reverberate all around them. "Fran! Penelo! Basch, Vaan! Can anyone _hear_ me!" he called out.

His voice was _so loud_ … had it always been so? Surely someone had to have heard him.

"What's that rhyme that Penny's always chanting?" he asked himself, trying desperately to remember the words to the Cure spell. Blast it, _why _had he not paid more attention when the younger girl had tried to teach him? She'd told him he might need it some day, and he had dismissed it as something of little consequence. And now …

"Fran!" he called out, more insistent this time. "Somebody, for the love of the _gods_!" He looked down at Ashe. She was so still, so pale. "Gods, if I've …" he stopped, unable to finish the sentence. "I'm so sorry, Ashelia."

Touching her cheek, ignorant of the blood that was soaking the sleeves of his shirt, he felt his emotions bubble closer to the surface than they had been in years. "Oh, gods," he choked out, cradling her close to him. "_FRAN!_" Where in the hell _was_ everyone? Why would no one answer him?

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. He couldn't even heal her, for Faram's sake! What kind of leading man was he? "Gods forgive me." He looked back at her. "Ashe, forgive me?" He leaned forward and brushed his lips ever-so-lightly over Ashe's.

"Balthier." Fran's voice caused him to snap his head up. "What --" Her gaze landed on Ashe and she rushed over.

"It was the Mist," Balthier said quickly, almost wildly, and Fran just nodded as she carefully pulled Ashe away from him and laid her on the ground. "I thought I saw a fiend. I didn't know. Gods."

Fran touched his shoulder lightly, could feel his whole body almost imperceptibly shaking. "You would not have done this," she said, looking him right in the eyes. "Balthier," she said sharply, knowing that she was going to lose him if she didn't keep him calm. He finally looked at her, as though he had just noticed she was there. "The Mist is -- different here," Fran explained. "It plays tricks."

She turned her attention to the Princess, started pulling various vials out of her own pack and administering them to Ashe. "But I shot her," Balthier said quietly, and suddenly he realized _why _he couldn't help her.

Because he'd been the one to hurt her. He could barely stand to think about it; his stomach churned and he knew he was going to be sick. He went as far away from Fran and Ashe as he could, and when he came back, Fran wisely chose not to mention it.

"The bullet only grazed her," Fran said after careful consideration of her partner. "She will be all right." She had miraculously cleaned up most of the blood on Ashe's face, and the wound was no longer oozing red.

"What happened?" Penelo and Vaan had found them, and Penelo gasped worriedly. "Is she all right?"

Fran nodded. "She will be fine."

"Majesty!" Basch said upon seeing his charge. "What has happened here?"

"She was shot," Fran said carefully, "but it only grazed her, and she's going to be …"

"Shot?" Basch interjected. "What manner of beast …" His gaze alighted on Balthier. "You," he snarled venomously. "I will see you dead for this."

Penelo jumped up quickly and stood in front of the knight. "Basch, stop! Balthier couldn't have shot her! He _wouldn't_." She looked to Balthier, waiting for him to clear his name.

"It was the Mist," he said, tiredly. "I saw what appeared to be a large fiend, and I shot. I didn't know that it was Ashe. Had I known, I wouldn't …"

Basch just held up his hand, his eyes closed. "That's enough. We'll make camp here for now, until we know that her Majesty is recovered." He looked at Balthier. "And I would talk to you now."

He looked around the area -- snow-covered with several pools of icy-cold water here and there, the landscape dotted with ruins from some ancient civilization -- trying to decide the best place to have this conversation. Someplace where they weren't likely to be spied upon.

Sensing the tension, Penelo quickly busied herself. "There's an alcove right over there, in between those rocks, see?" Penelo pointed it out to Vaan. "Let's go set up the small tent for Ashe."

Fran nodded at them and was impressed that it took them very little time at all to get it set up. Vaan came back and carefully lifted the Princess off the ground, carrying her into the tent and lying her on the blankets they had spread out. "She looks … okay, right?" he asked Penelo nervously.

"Fran took good care of her," Penelo said, hoping she sounded reassuring. "She'll be all right."

"What do you think Basch is going to do to Balthier?" Vaan questioned.

"It was the Mist," Penelo stated firmly. "He can't blame him for that. I mean, it's unfortunate, what happened, but he didn't do it on purpose. I think he really cares for her."

"Why do you say that?" Vaan asked.

Penelo shook her head. Her friend was always oblivious when it came to matters of the heart. "Just something in his eyes," she said quietly, not bothering to go into any more detail.

"What's _that_ mean?" Vaan asked.

"He didn't just look worried back there," Penelo said with a sigh. "He looked sad."

xXx

The Captain lectured him for a good twenty minutes on the importance of awareness and caution in battle. It didn't matter how many times he told Basch that he _hadn't_ actually been aiming for the Dalmascan Princess. The knight was still angry, and Balthier thought maybe he was angry at _himself _for not being there to protect her. He chose not to say anything to Basch, though.

"Are we done, here, then?" Balthier asked, trying not to be petulant, but also itching to check on Ashe.

"Don't you realize you could have _killed _her?" Basch growled.

Balthier looked at the older man, his eyes steely and cold. "I'm quite aware of what _could_ have happened, Captain," he said levelly. "And I don't need any reminders from you. Do you think that I could _live_ with myself had I killed her?" Too late did he realize that he'd spoken those words out loud.

"What is going on, Balthier?" Basch asked after an interminably long silence.

"I was merely stating that the bounty on my head is large enough by now. Don't need to add royalty slaying to the list," Balthier said glibly, trying to play it off.

"You're lying," Basch said.

Balthier shrugged. "Pirate," he said and quickly walked away from Basch. He caught up with Fran, who was sitting at the campfire Vaan had built, trying to get something started for everyone to eat. "Fran, go and keep the Captain company for me, would you?"

Fran narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you do?" she asked him warily.

"Nothing at all," he said, feigning innocence.

"Ashe is awake!" Vaan said, approaching the sky pirates.

Balthier gave Fran a look and she sighed, stood up, and went to talk to Basch. Balthier grinned. He just needed a few minutes to speak with Ashe without worrying about the knight breathing down his neck.

He stopped outside the tent upon hearing the two female voices inside.

" … I know it wasn't his fault, Penelo," Ashe was saying.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?" Penelo asked.

"Not really. It happened so quickly. I just remember being separated from everyone, and then hearing Balthier, and being _so glad_ …"

"Ashe?" Penelo asked at the far-off tone in the Princess' voice. "Do you … do you care about him?"

Balthier was very interested to hear where this conversation was going.

"Care … about him?" Ashe stammered. "I care about … about _all _of you. Why would _he_ be any different?"

"Ashe," Penelo said sternly. "What are you trying to hide?"

"I -- I can't," Ashe whispered.

Penelo just nodded, not needing to hear anything else. "I'll let you rest," she said kindly, and a few seconds later, she was stepping out of the tent. "Oh! Balthier, you _scared_ me!" she yelped.

"My apologies," he said. "How is she?"

"She seems okay," Penelo told him, her eyes flicking back to the tent. "Are you going to talk to her? I think you should."

Balthier nodded and ducked into the dimly-lit tent. Ashe was lying underneath several blankets, curled up on her side. "Balthier," she said when she saw him. He sat down next to her, carefully, as though he was afraid she might break. She frowned. She didn't _want_ him to treat her like glass. "I'm fine," she told him.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"You did not do this on purpose," she replied, pulling herself up to a sitting position so that she could look him in the eyes as she spoke. But he wouldn't meet her gaze, try as she might. "That Mist -- it felt strange. It was playing tricks on everyone. Do not blame yourself."

"I could've killed you," he whispered, and she smiled sadly, touched by his concern.

"I'm not dead," she said gently. "I don't break that easily."

"Yes, you've proven that," he remarked somewhat sardonically. "I was scared. Scared that you might die … and it would've been my fault."

"Balthier," she breathed. Her hand touched his, and she squeezed it gently.

His head shot up and he finally looked at her. Even in the fading light, she saw the flash in his eyes, the pain and anguish he'd been feeling all day, and something else. Something … new.

She started to pull her hand away, but he held fast and drew her closer to him. His hand reached up, fingertips brushing feather-lightly on her bruised temple. Sighing, he pulled her to him and enfolded her in his arms. Ashe allowed herself this moment to just melt against him. After this day, there could be no harm in it.

Why did this feel so _right_?

"I would never intentionally hurt you," he breathed into her hair.

"I know that," she murmured back. "Please, stop apologizing."

He finally released her, but he kept his hands on her upper arms and searched her face. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against her temple, ever-so-lightly. She trembled a bit and he looked at her worriedly. "Are you cold?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "No," she replied. Their eyes met and her breath caught … for the first time in years, she actually felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Balthier, I …"

"Shh," he said, touching his finger to her lips. He looked at her for a long moment. "No more apologies, right?" he said, and her brow furrowed. "Then forgive me for this." He moved his hands up her arms to her face and gave her one last long look before he plunged.

His lips brushed hers, soft and cautious. When she didn't push him away, he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth down over hers. She moaned when his tongue slid over hers, and she threaded her fingers in his hair. Everything inside of her screamed for him, and suddenly the rules didn't seem to matter any more.

He fisted his hands in her hair, drinking in the taste of her, the sounds she made … all of it burned itself into his memory. With much regret, he pulled away from her. The remorse he felt was heightened at the small whimpering sound she made.

"Ashe," he said firmly. "This can't continue."

"What?" Ashe said, her eyes frantically searching his for some kind of answer.

"We can't keep doing this. It isn't fair any more," he told her, willing himself to stay calm and to do what he knew was best.

"But … why?"

"We both know why, Ashelia," he said, his eyes full of a longing that he couldn't hide. She knew her eyes must be showing the same thing.

"But Balthier …" Ashe started.

"No," he cut her off. "It ends now. Before it gets …"

"Messy," Ashe finished grimly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain her composure. "Fine. If that is your wish. Consider this arrangement … over."

Balthier smiled sadly, considered what he could say. Finally, he settled on, "Goodnight, Princess," and with those words, he left.

When she was sure she was alone, Ashe allowed a single tear to escape from the corner of her eye. That single tear turned into a dozen, and that dozen became too many to count.

For the first time in two years, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca cried herself to sleep.


End file.
